Home?
by WandSparksRCoolerThanFireworks
Summary: Merlin moves home to Ealdor after completing her apprenticeship with Gaius, but is met by tragedy when she gets there. Luckily, she still has a home in Camelot.
1. Chapter 1

Hi guys, apologies for how long the update took. I meant to post this as a one-shot, so I'm really grateful for your follows! This is a prequel rather than a continuation. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoy!

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><p>Devastation lay before me and crippled my heart. There was nothing. Or rather, there was nothing as it should have being.<p>

The hairs on the back of my neck had risen over a day ago, when smoke billowed upwards instead of trailing lazily from a few occupied hearths. Then, once night had fallen, the great eerie flame ahead had dimmed with time but was never doused with sleep. I'd exchanged my swift strides for a run, fear licking at my strained muscles.

Now I saw why. Felt why, retching against the waist-high remains of a once tall hut. Had the horrifically familiar scent of charred – executed – flesh singe my nostrils, hazing my vision with smoke and the acute stab of _gone_.

I cringed against my Mother's hut. Her corpse, sword in hand, stared vacantly at the sky – crude pike in chest, the other hand absently resting amongst the congealed blood. No scabbing, but that was no guarantee of a swift passing. With the pike holding in most of the blood, that wound could have taken hours to end her life. I vomited again.

A covered bucket stood by the cool hearth, half full of frigid water. I rinsed my mouth, washed my face, calmed my breathing in case any of the monsters were left _and they_ _could hear me_. I wouldn't give them the satisfaction of knowing they'd ransacked a home so beloved.

They were long gone though, whoever they were. The fires that had alerted me to the danger had long since sunk to embers in the few places they still burned. The birds sung in the distant trees; the danger had passed; the brutal loss remained.

Adrenaline granted more than my usual pittance of grace as I walked the village, hearth by hearth, fallen defender by the startled agony of the shocked villager, by man, by woman, by child. Most were like ice, cold as the morning dew. Others were merely cool, the bloodstains of their wounds only hours old. Few were warm, the agony of the aidless, drawn out death etched upon their brows; all alone, too broken the crawl to the others, though two – maybe three – had callously being left with enough life to try vainly before the blackness claimed them.

All dead. All gone.

Until Caitlyn. Just four summers old when I left for Camelot, five the first time bandits ravaged her home. Seven now, and as beautiful as ever, even unconscious.

Seven now, and still warm. Oh, the night had cooled her skin and leeched the colour from her cheeks, but still breathing. Stirring as she slumbered, already out of the unnatural motionlessness of the comatosed. Not yet conscious enough to respond to her name being called fretfully, joyously, desperately.

Probably for the best. I wrapped her in my cloak, a gift from Gaius, and left her to finish my inspection. The examination of the remains of the village passed in a blur of peering into sightless eyes and pressing fingers to lifeless wrists. Always I listened, strained the catch the shocked gasp of the newly awoken, because surely I would have heard it as hushed as the village was, distance be damned. Even the dogs had been silenced.

There were no other survivors. I hadn't expected any.

Soon, with scavenged blankets and water skins, along with the same pack I'd carried from Camelot and a dress I thought to be Caitlyn's sister's _– eyes wide, a heavy gash upon her pale throat – don't think, just act, protect_ – I was bundling Caitlyn into my arms and striding away from the hearths neither of us could ever come home to.

Camelot was 3 days walk away and the two to the border would be the worst. In half a day, I'd stop, check Caitlyn's wounds, make her drink, then carry her to a cave half a mile from the old smuggler's road to pass the night. And pray to the Gods she would wake.

I would use magic if I had to, but I couldn't let her see. She was too little to understand why she couldn't tell.

Half a day, and I set down my burden. Her heart was weak, but thankfully present and steady, skin warm from the blankets. I ripped the cleanest ones into rags, and mixed water with honey to disinfect the gash on her forehead, the grazes on her hands. Hoped the coolness of the water would soothe the deep, blackening bruise alongside her head. Nothing seemed broken under the swelling, and carrying her probably would have killed her already if the bone was crushed. _Don't think about it._ The rest of the blanket was stripped into bandages to bind her broken wrist. She must have tried to break her fall. The gash on her forehead implied that it was a futile effort.

As evening fell, I used the last vestiges of sunlight to settle Caitlyn into the deepest corner of the shallow cave, and then set up a ward to sidetrack anyone approaching. I massaged some more water down her throat, and then called her name again.

She stirred, no more than the leaves in a gentle summer breeze, but she stirred, mumbled a little.

"Shh…" I stroked her hair; let my hand press against her cheek.

"You're safe with me."

I allowed myself to rest fitfully, but jerked awake at every night time sound to discern the natural from the suspicious, of which there was none. A fog had misted over my thoughts, making it difficult to do anything but repeat; listen, card a hand though Caitlyn's hair, listen, sleep, listen. When she shivered, I noticed I was cold and draped another blanket over us both.

She woke as the sun rose.

"Ealdor…" she croaked, tears slipping down her temples.

"I know," I smoothed her hair, fighting my own sobs, "I know, Caitlyn."

She closed her eyes.

"Where are we?" She didn't ask for her parents; she must've seen too much before she was knocked out.

"Safe. We're going to Camelot," I told her.

"It hurts," she whispered.

"This will ease it off," I half-lied. The tonic would make her sleep, but I could carry her and I only had enough pain-numbing herbs for one day – tomorrow, when she would be less groggy, and more aware of her injuries.

We were back on the road while the sun was still low in the sky, and didn't stop until Caitlyn stirred in my arms. I split some bread – my mother's favourite, I remembered dimly –between us. Then I carried her again, sticking to the trees, speeding over the open ground as quickly as I could manage.

She could walk the next day, but it was slower, so I carried her once we were close enough to Camelot that I wouldn't tire.

As I walked, I told her about the forest and camping with the Knights and Arthur. The best places to find sage, rosemary, the prettiest flowers, the names of the streams that flowed past the city. That most traders came from the West, not the East, so she needn't worry about the quiet.

At some point, she began to cry, slowly soaking my tunic. I kissed her brow and let her. She clung harder, and so did I.

"I've got you," I whispered, because I couldn't force anymore sound out of my choked throat.

Eventually she cried herself out and slept. Now we didn't have to be so quiet I hummed a lullaby, and hushed her as she dreamt. When the sun set behind the clouds, smudging the sky from blue to pink to black, I walked on. The white, intimidating, protective walls of Camelot had never been so welcome, and I had to blink back the burn in my eyes that they would be home now, for me and for Caitlyn.

The sentry on the gate recognised me from my many early morning trips into the forest to collect herbs by moonlight. I thought I managed a tight smile in his direction when he advised me that Gaius was at the citadel tonight; the town was calm. I walked through the streets I knew so well like a sleepwalker. If I passed anyone I didn't notice them. Voices drifted out of the tavern, but I passed it without a glance. I needed Gaius now; my friends, those I'd said goodbye to scant days ago, could wait until dawn to learn of my return.

The citadel guard recognised me too, and let me pass when I declined their aid. Soon I found myself outside of the heavy, wooden door that granted entrance in to my one sanctuary in Camelot, to the one man who knew everything about me; Gaius. He would be saddened by my Mother's death, and I knew not how to break it to him.

Practise allowed me to open the weighty door easily - to hit the angle at which the well-oiled hinged would do the work. The tight band around my chest loosened, and I breathed deeply for the first time in days. I stepped inside, and called softly:

"Gaius?"


	2. Chapter 2

A few notes... I've experimented with a new (to me) type of narration here, so if I've failed hugely, please tell me and I'll try to improve it. Also, apologies for any spelling errors of Gaius or Ealdor; I think I've fixed them all but I could have missed a few.

Thanks for reading!

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><p>"Gaius?" Merlin had pitched her voice low so as not to wake the child in the girl's arms, but the shock of seeing the owner was enough to make the old man jump, and with good reason once he set eyes on her.<p>

"Merlin!" he exclaimed, just as quietly, "what in the..."

"Let me get Caitlyn settled, first- then I'll explain," to her dismay, her voice cracked on those first few words. Hoarsely, she added, "If I'm still welcome, I know you'd just gotten rid of me and all-"

"You're always welcome," Gaius cut her off firmly. "I'll make some tea while you get the girl settled in your room."

Merlin's eyes momentarily shone with tears that she hastily blinked away. There'd be a time for those later, but it would have to wait, she told herself firmly, then startled, shocked, as a second figure emerged from Gaius's living area. She could only murmur her thanks as King Uthur helped Gaius relieve her of her hastily packed bags so she could grip the child in her arms more securely.

Forcing her surprise down along with the rest of her emotions, she slipped under Gaius's arm as he held open her bedroom door. The bed was still in the corner, so after a short conversation with Caitlyn that involved few words and much hushing and tucking of blankets to soothe the exhausted child back into a deep slumber as she stirred, Merlin closed the door gently behind her.

She laughed weakly as she took the offered seat by the fire, and accepted the proffered mug of tea from the King, still disoriented by his presence, though she supposed he and Gaius were rather close confidants, so it wasn't entirely unusual for them to share a drink at night.

Gaius appeared just as she thought to ask on his absence, carrying the tools of his trade with him.

"Let me see that arm," he requested softly, mindful of the sleeping child in the next room – a mystery that would be solved after Merlin's more bothersome wounds had been seen to, as he knew that she certainly didn't have any children of her own.

"It can wait," Merlin protested, the warmth of the fireside and soothing effect of the tea having staved off the edge of her exhaustion, allowing for thought beyond reaching this, her second home. Or rather her only home, as she supposed it must now be.

"I'm glad to find you here, my lord," she addressed the king now, "I thought it would have to wait till morning..."

She trailed off, her thoughts leading though a dark and messy road even as she tried to order them into something comprehensible to a second party. She missed the worried glance exchanged between her mentor and king.

"What would have to wait?" Uthur's voice, too, was gentle, but the quiet authority demanded attention.

"Ealdor..." Merlin faltered, faced with acknowledging reality aloud for the first time.

"Ealdor's being burnt to the ground. There was nothing there to indicate that it was done so in a... an official capacity, and Caitlyn's the only one I found alive so I'm not entirely sure what happened. But, what with it been so close to the border and all, I thought you should know that the outlying villages might be in danger.

"It would have taken a lot of men," she confirmed shakily, "to sack the village so thoroughly."

A brief silence marked the severity of her words. Uthur leaned forwards in his chair, elbows on knees and his fingers pressed together under his jaw. His gaze was alert, decisive.

"How far is Ealdor from Camelot's borders?" he questioned.

"About forty miles, sire, and about sixty miles from the city?"

"Its population?"

"About a hundred, maybe as many as a hundred and thirty." A tear escaped Merlin's control at this, for the citizens of Ealdor no more. She swallowed harshly.

"I see," Uther's voice was tight, but his gaze was laced with sympathy. He rose from his chair, and stepped towards the hearth. Laying a warm hand on her shaking shoulder, he spoke:

"Thank you for bringing this to my attention so swiftly. I know it cannot have being easy. You have my sympathies for your loss, and you are, of-course, welcome here in Camelot." He released her gently.

"I shall inform the knights that they will be riding to check on the villages at midday tomorrow. A messenger will be sent to Cenred too. Excuse me," Uther nodded at Merlin's tearful thanks, and then swept from the room.

No sooner had Gaius latched the door behind him than he was striding back to his long-time ward.

"Merlin.."

She rose to meet his outstretched arms, and, finally, wept. Whether from grief for her village, relief that the king of her adopted home would protect his people where her king failed, or for guilt at telling Gaius of her mother's death so indirectly, she knew not. Yet she did know that Gaius's arms were tight around her still-shivering frame, and that for the first time in days she could she didn't need to strain her eyes and ears for warning of the bandits that had slaughtered her hometown. So she let Gaius stroke her hair as she clung to him desperately, breathing in the familiar scent of herbs that followed him and focusing on the fire dancing behind her closed eyelids rather than the rancid burning of human flesh she'd encountered in Ealdor still echoing in her memory as she recalled her utterly pillaged home.

When her eyes were red, gritty with exhaustion, but dry, Gaius coaxed her into letting him inspect her for injuries. The cut on her arm stung as he cleaned it properly, but it was well-cared for already, knowing as she did that if it got infected before she could get Caitlyn to safety then the girl would surely suffer. And she'd suffered so much already.

Eventually they just sat, staring into the flames for the night's dwindling fire, Gaius having hushed her worries over Caitlyn and work for now, and Merlin tiredly agreeing with his proclamation that it "will all keep until morning, my dear."

A soft knock on the door drew Gaius out of his reverie, and he went to answer is hastily.

"Sire," he greeted the prince grimly, somehow unsurprised by the Prince's presence in the middle of the night, "Come in."

The prince did so after greeting the court physician. Once inside however, he made no hesitation in heading towards his friend by the fireside.

"Merlin," he knelt in front of her, and unceremoniously pulled her into a deep embrace that she returned whole-heartedly, burying her face in the crook of his neck and holding him with as much desperation as she'd shown Gaius earlier, who inconspicuously stepped into the other room to give the two some privacy.

"Arthur," she breathed. Stepping back, he gripped her shoulders as he looked at her face.

"How are you?" his voice was thick with concern. She grimaced.

"Terrible. I don't know..."

Lost for words, he hugged her again.

"I am so sorry. They didn't deserve that, they were good people," he murmured.

"I know," she confirmed, her voice breaking around the syllables, and a few more tears leaking out.

Arthur tightened his grip momentarily, then released her.

"I have to help my Father organise the patrols. Will you be okay?"

"Gaius is here," Merlin reminded him, "and I'll probably be asleep soon anyway."

Arthur nodded, then kissed her forehead, a comforting gesture he reserved for the worst of times – which, she supposed, it truly was.

"Thank-you," she whispered as he left, to which he looked back and nodded. A few brief words with Gaius later, and her was gone.

"Time for bed," Gaius announced, approaching with a goblet of water and a medicine vial Merlin recognised as a sleeping draught she had prepared herself.

"You'll find no arguments here," she yawned, allowing herself to be ushered towards the cot closest to her room, and Caitlyn. Within minutes she was asleep, soothed by the lullaby of the crackling fire.

With an ache in his soul for his lost half-sister, and all of those she called kin and neighbours, Gaius reflected worriedly that at least she would always have a home here. The aftermath of her childhood home's destruction could wait; he could only deal with the tears as they came.

For they would come, he knew, in the time it took Merlin to work out that she may have being able to defend her village with her powers had she arrived earlier, never mind the fact that she, and possibly all of Ealdor, would likely be executed for her troubles if such a thing were to occur.

Best to get some rest, he decided. He'd likely need it for the day ahead.


End file.
